


drabbles 4 detectives :3

by circopoi (cicadabug)



Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicadabug/pseuds/circopoi
Summary: here be drabbles :3 enjoy. i amn taking requests
Relationships: Harry Du Bois & Kim Kitsuragi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	drabbles 4 detectives :3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is for [luminality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luminality)s 500 word writing prompt on the disco elysium writing server. enjoy !!!11!

Your mornings begin before you awaken. 

She’s always there, tiny footprints leading you to a gentle glowing damnation, but you’ve known this hell long enough to realize you can weaponize it. In every composition, there’s foreground and background. Here, for the longest time, you’ve been wrong about which is which. It's not lucid dreaming—it’s something else entirely.

“Harry,” she breathes, “I have to go.”

“Shush,” you say, and breeze past her to the iridescent windowpanes of 24h Video Revachol. Playfully, the wind teases your hair. The posters tacked inside change every morning, and you scan them up and down, over and over, until your dream-addled brain commits them to memory. One about Yugo-Graad ballerinas, one with a frail child with a finger to her lips. One with six numbers in black paint.

She watches you with a quizzical forlornness. “There are no more movies for us. I’m leaving.”

“Then go.” You drop down to your knees and sift through the windblown scraps of litter, uncrumpling papers and scanning them for bursts of red clarity—images, words, even smells—against fuzzy dream-text. Messages from a darker, stronger, silent you. 

“No, please, get up, I can’t—” 

“I’m not kneeling for you. Now be quiet, I need to focus.”

She falls silent and glances at the red text over your shoulder.

ACROSS THE WATERS. GREENERY FEEDS ITSELF ON EFFLUVIA.

You have only a second before the text slips from the paper and crumbles against the pavement like ancient burial silk. The wind begins to howl.

“Really, Harry. I’ll be late.”

“Late for what? You never leave, do you?”

She doesn’t answer. A gust of cold air tugs her flaxen hair across her face.

“You don’t scare me anymore, Dolores. This is my brain and *I’m* devouring *you.*” You look into the empty blue of her eyes. “Now, *I* have to go.”

You wake with the gasp of a drowned sailor resuscitated, the downy darkness of the motel room wrapping around your body. Before your eyes open fully, you’re already lunging for your ledger and clicking on a lamp and a ballpoint pen and scratching inked grooves into the notepad within. On a separate mattress a few feet away, a warm lump underneath blankets groans and rolls to face you.

“Anything of note, detective?” His voice is husky with sleep.

“Numbers. Five, three… eight… six… two, one? Yeah, one. Mean anything to you?”

“Not that I remember. Postal codes, perhaps?”

“Maybe. I also got… ballerinas. The concept of silence, I think. And… We should go back to that orchid nursery in Le Jardin. There’s something we missed.”

“Mmh. Let’s do that today.” He squints at his watch. “What time is it?” 

“Like, four in the morning.”

He hums, satisfied. “Yes, good work, now… shall we go back to sleep?” He rolls back onto his stomach and buries himself in the covers. “We still have three hours.”

You switch the light off and settle back into your own mattress with a creak. 

“G’night, Kim.”

“...Good night.”

**Author's Note:**

> i subsist on kudos + comments. feed me or be responsible for my death :3. give me things to write about


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